


ode to a summer's day

by vapid



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mild Blood, Mythical Beings & Creatures, on the concept of memories, spirited away!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapid/pseuds/vapid
Summary: Within the borders of Yuya Island where everything stays and everything fades, Atsu learns from a boy-god the importance of remembering.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	ode to a summer's day

**Author's Note:**

> 1) this is heavily based off of the ghibli film spirited away, but i'm just gonna put it out there that i didn't follow it plot-wise. just think of the vibes instead and you're good  
> 2) Atsu (圧): pressure; Ki (木, 気, or 季): tree, air, or seasons, depending on how you want to interpret it

Gentle wind whistled in Atsu’s ears; salty on his lips, remnants of the sea. 

The red barrier of the bridge shimmered underneath a harsh sun, groaning under the weight of one boy and a missing life outside the endless bounds of Yuya Island. Absentmindedly, Atsu held out his hand and gripped the air, lapping water reflecting light in his eyes. He let his fingers dance and he thought of the past slipping through his grasp like the grey pebbles by the island shore, fading away into a line of ships in the horizon. 

It didn’t scare him anymore, how time passed by so, so easily here. 

The only tangible taste of fear that Atsu remembered was from his very first night on the island: a shrill, bellowing voice, a turquoise pen and copper-colored paper, a name stolen. Atsu remembered a sea of creatures in harsh yellow light, dark shadowy figures and frog-like faces, terror taking root in his heart and stomach. Atsu remembered hot steam pressing against his skin and how he had almost burned and dissolved in the flurrying crowd, turning him into liquid splashed on the wooden floor.

Then, slowly, things got better. Futons became softer the more his weight molded into the cotton material. His back stopped getting sore as easily; his fingers, too, stopped turning pruney only after an hour of cleaning his assigned area on the third floor. Atsu began finding small pockets of joy in the Bathhouse whose halls never seemed to end, secrets upon secrets in the vast stretch of land covering Yuya and its limitless bounds.

But more importantly, there was _him_.

“Atsu, what are you doing?”

Atsu started and turned. An immediate rush of heat filled his cheeks at the source of the voice, coming from the wide entrance leading to the Bathhouse. Standing firmly behind the invisible border was Ki, silvery hair almost white in the afternoon light. 

He walked over to where Atsu was sitting on the bridge, feet dangling off the ledge in the spaces between red painted logs. He stopped just short of an arm’s distance, far enough for Atsu to want to reach his hand out—but short enough for him to catch a whiff of forests and fields that draped across Ki’s shoulders, flowing down the black kimono peeking out from behind a pale white kariginu. 

“Ki-san,” Atsu squeaked out. Ki’s gaze was stern, unwavering—but his eyes were a gentle gold and Atsu felt himself thaw. 

“Don’t sit like that, Atsu. It’s dangerous.” 

Ki’s words traveled through Atsu’s dazed mind and he shivered, an ache in his chest at the way Ki’s voice was laced with quiet concern, firm and grounded like that of an age-old god. 

“‘Kay,” Atsu hastily removed himself from the ledge and in the process almost kicked Ki in the thigh with the swing of his legs. One look at Ki’s face and Atsu felt embarrassment flood rapidly through him. “S-sorry, Ki-san—”

An easy laugh cut his scrambled words off. “It’s fine, Atsu. You’re fine. Come, let’s head back in.” 

Ki extended his hand out and Atsu's heart leapt when he took it in his own without a second’s hesitation. Ki’s palm felt ripple-smooth, hand warmer than the sun on Atsu’s face. 

〰️〰️〰️

On days when there weren’t any bat-like sets of eyes watching their every move, Ki would bring Atsu to the old farm atop the jagged cliff. 

Here was where Atsu eventually learned that Ki loved big by loving small. 

It manifested in the small knapsacks of onigiri and a comforting voice that kept the easily excited vigor in Atsu from running wild. It manifested in the way Ki propped his head on his hands and listened, with quiet understanding, when Atsu rambled on and on about his old life back in Hyogo: of summer nights catching fireflies with his brother when they were little, of consuming watermelons in the dozens, of battered volleyballs and broken nets in the backyard of their grandparents’ home. 

Up ahead, the narrow edge of the mountain opened up to a smooth, flat plain, covered in beaten down barns and untended bushes. They walked down their usual route to their favorite spot right in front of the ocean; flowers in white, pink, and orange decorated their browning green, burgeoning wildly but never violently. _These flowers are in bloom forever_ , Ki had told Atsu the last time they were here. _They never, ever die, even if you want them to._

 _Huh? Why the heck would I want them to die?_ Atsu had asked, entirely confused. It didn’t make any sense to him, why living forever would be a bad thing. It sounded pretty neat.

Ki had said nothing for a while. Atsu had already finished his second red bean bun by the time Ki answered: _because when you live forever, Atsu, there will be nothing left for you to hold onto._

Maybe Ki hadn’t noticed it himself at the time, but his words were hard, and came packed with unspoken sadness. Atsu didn’t press on after that—but right now, with the overwhelming fragrance of apricot flowers and oleanders surrounding him again, he couldn’t stop thinking of Ki’s face from that moment: drawn and accepting of a fate unknown to Atsu. 

“Atsu, what are you thinking about?”

Atsu looked up, startled. He folded his legs in and felt the grass tickle his skin through the cotton of his shorts. Ki settled down next to him, pickled plums and salted onigiri laid out on a piece of canvas over his lap. He offered one to Atsu and Atsu stuffed it in his mouth before Ki could catch the budding red on his cheeks.

“Nothin’, I was just...admiring the flowers.” He gestured to the bushes behind them and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ki fold his hands in his lap. 

Ki hummed. “Were you, now?”

Atsu felt his face flush. Sometimes he would get the most uncanny feeling that Ki could see right through him. But it was true, though, that the flowers looked prettier today. 

“Okay, fine. I was actually thinking...about what you said before,” Atsu admitted, picking at a stray grain of rice that had fallen on the dry ground. 

Ki waited silently for him to continue and Atsu fidgeted in his spot. It’s always nerve-wracking, having Ki-san hang on his every word. He cleared his throat again, ashy and timid. 

“...What did you mean, when you said that if someone lives forever...there’d be nothing left for them to hold onto?”

Ki blinked in surprise, fingers lingering on the onigiri in his left palm. He looked away from Atsu’s curious gaze and stared out beyond the ledge of the cliff, at blues of sea and sky converging in the distance. The edges of his black hakama brushed against Atsu’s knee and he trembled a little at the contact. 

“Do you know how long you’ve been working here, Atsu?”

“Eh? You’re talking about me?”

“Yes, you.”

Atsu shook his head, unsure of where this was going. “No, I don’t.”

Ki exhaled, placing the onigiri on top of the canvas bag. “It’s been almost four weeks, Atsu. Four weeks since you arrived on the island.”

“Really? It’s been that long?” Atsu widened his eyes at the information, a small laugh escaping his lips. “I’ve been having so much fun, I couldn’t tell at all!”

Ki was silent again, the lines dotting the corners of his eyes hardening. 

“...But Ki-san, why’re you keeping count?” Atsu asked as he finished up his first onigiri, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the salt on his mouth. 

“You’re always thinking of your family, aren’t you?” Ki placed a second onigiri in Atsu’s hands, to which Atsu accepted with a tiny _thanks_. 

“Huh? ‘Course I’m always thinking about them! But I’m sure they’re doing fine without me—”

Ki let out a sigh and Atsu faltered to a stop. The look in Ki’s eyes had Atsu itching to tuck his free hand under his thighs, nervousness creeping up his throat. 

“What makes you think they’re doing fine?” Ki’s asked, voice quiet. 

The question threw Atsu off guard for a good three seconds. The grains of rice stuck in his mouth were chewy, sweet. He stared down at the section of the onigiri bitten off, salted salmon roe peeking through between white. 

As the dirt grew warm underneath his weight, Atsu thought back on sleepless nights when he would lie awake racing against time and memory, when he would reminisce about his life before the Bathhouse. No matter the childish elation at the dreamy thought of never-ending adventures in this spirit world, there always existed a small trickle of curiosity, a dull burning desire to know everything that came after he had lost all touch with his family. Beyond that, Atsu couldn’t seem to remember how he had ended up all alone in the winding grass on the foothills of the island. The only remaining memory he had of a link connecting Yuya Island to an outside world were the stone sculptures, wrapped in moss, standing at the edge of a black spiraling tunnel. Atsu had begun to wonder if an outside world even existed. If it ever existed. 

But that didn’t matter. It all boiled down to the question hanging mid-air, in the silence that stretched between Ki and him, between the cliff and the sea that expanded endlessly. _Is his family doing okay?_ If Atsu were to be honest with himself, he had always assumed that they were. Or they will be. After all, he trusted Osamu enough to be happy on his own, even without him.

But then again, what if that isn't the case? Atsu had never even considered otherwise.

A pool of sweat starts to gather. 

“I...I don’t know.” Atsu said finally. “I suppose they’re not fine without me. Maybe. I dunno.”

Ki turned around and faced him, fingers wrapping around the rough edges of Atsu’s free hand. He drew circular patterns on the wrinkle between Atsu’s thumb and forefinger, traveling down to the center of his palm, tracing the lines that never meet.

“Listen carefully, Atsu. I’m going to find a way to get you out of here.”

“...What?” Atsu felt his heart plummet in a split second and he almost dropped his onigiri. “ _What?_ But why would—”

“Four weeks in the spirit world is a long, long time, Atsu. And I don’t want you here any longer than that.”

Atsu’s breath shuddered and he felt holes bloom in his chest. Ki doesn’t want him here. _Ki doesn’t want him here_. 

Ki continued, face stoic, hard-set. “I have a plan. I’m going to talk to the Boss, and I’ll make sure you get your name back. No matter what.”

“Wait, wait, stop—Why don't you want me here?” Atsu demanded, voice raising an octave. He attempted to shrug his hand away, aggression piling in mountains in his stomach. “You don’t like me anymore, is that it? That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t—”

“Of course I like you,” Ki gave his response almost too calmly. He held Atsu’s hand tight, not allowing any room for escape. His fingers returned to drawing smooth circles on Atsu's palm. “Of course I do.”

“Then _why_ , Ki-san? Why don’t you want me here?”

Ki sighed again, eyes trailing the bones in Atsu’s knuckles, the skin tanned and calloused. When he answered his voice was pained, words imbued with a loss of something unknown to Atsu. “I just…I don’t want you to fade.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

The grip around Atsu's hand tightened almost painfully. "You'll become a memory, Atsu. A figment of the past, to all the people important to you."

Atsu felt wrinkles form between his brows and he groaned out, fingers twitching, tempted to throw the half eaten onigiri in his hand onto the ground by his feet. "Huh? And what does _that_ mean? I don't understand! I don't—"

"Atsu. Settle down. Breathe."

Ki's hands did wonders. His thumb brushed across trembling skin and the anger bubbling in Atsu's chest ebbed. Atsu's breathing slowed down into a silent rhythm. 

"Listen to me, Atsu.” Ki’s voice was gentle again, calm and subdued. “You can't stay here any longer. I want you to remember your real name and I want you to live on, in the real world, where memories become a part of _you—_ not the other way around.”

Atsu didn't realize his mouth was hanging open until a pool of saliva formed on his tongue and he’s forced to swallow, throat itching. He said nothing for what could be a minute or even an hour, watching white gulls sail through the air and disappear from his sight. The onigiri in his hand began to break apart.

" _Please_ , Atsu."

And so he crumbled, too. The _okay, Ki-san_ came out like a dream.

For the rest of the afternoon, the topic was left untouched. Instead, Ki told Atsu stories; tales of a life he had left behind, when he used to govern a mighty river with a name long forgotten. 

〰️〰️〰️

Ki kept his promise.

Atsu had heard all about it from the whispers in the corridors, from the employees exchanging silent gossip in the night in the futons next to him: how the fox god of the river had challenged the Boss to a duel, a betting of lives. 

The faceless crowd rustled, anxious, at the sounding of a horn in the distance, of billowing black smoke unfurling from the opening of the rusted metal pipe. Atsu managed to burst through the hordes of people blocking the entrance to the Bathhouse, forcing himself out into the cool night. By the time Atsu caught a glimpse of Ki, the fight was already over. A tremor shook through his body at the sight in front of him.

Crouching at the edge of the red bridge was a black and white kitsune, all sleek fur and sharp golden eyes. Its breathing was ragged, deep and primal, the white expanse of its hide splashed red. It stared hard at a dark figure in front of it, its form bruised and bloodied with a hellish shade of purple. Shrieks from a slanted, gaping mouth fill the air and with one last pounce, the kitsune ripped threads of black out from its sides and Atsu watched as it melted into a puddle, seeping through wooden panes into the dark waters below.

“He’s won! He’s won!”

Whispers transformed into deafening shouts, rowdy crowds pushing in and out of the Bathhouse as everyone scrambled to catch even a glimmer of the fox-god himself, a god who had defeated the Boss's Guardian. The kitsune panted, body heaving; Atsu stood frozen to the ground and watched as fur peels away in shells, until all that’s left was a boy in its place.

Blood painted his face, his arms; it trickled down to his ankles through the burnt slashes in his hakama. Ki staggered a little, one arm clutching the other so harshly the skin turned white. He crossed over to where Atsu was standing at the front of the roaring crowd. Everything else around them seemed to slip and fade.

“Miya Atsumu.” Ki’s voice was rough. It sent Atsu’s heart soaring, so much so he barely registered the unfamiliar name that had left Ki's mouth. 

"What?"

“That’s your name, Atsumu. Miya Atsumu. That’s you, and don’t you ever forget it.”

〰️〰️〰️

“Will I ever see you again, Ki-san?”

Atsumu’s words became one with the wind, drifting down the hill. Ki glanced down at their hands entwined, soft fingers pressing into palms. 

“Sure you will, Atsumu.”

“You promise? _Promise_?”

“I promise. I’ll always be with you.” His voice was a lullaby.

Atsumu felt a lump in his throat, tears gathering in the reddening corners of his eyes. And right before his brain could stop him his body surged forward, arms wrapping around Ki’s neck. Ki caught him and held him, firm, unyielding, hands molding his waist. Atsumu squeezed his eyes shut and leaned in, lips meeting lips—and it’s as though all the moments on the island were spent in lieu of a single touch of mouths, eyelids fluttering close. 

The kiss was nothing short of awkward. Atsumu bumped teeth, the embarrassing realization that his lips were dry and chapped hitting him a few half-seconds too late. Ki ignored this and chuckled into the kiss, sending shivers through Atsumu’s entire being, boyish and filled with love. When they pulled away, Ki’s eyes were clearer than the sky behind him. 

“I’ve wanted to do that all this time,” Atsumu breathed out.

Ki smiled and Atsumu felt his face turning wet, a salty taste on his lips where Ki had left his mark. Ki leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the damp skin of Atsumu’s cheek. “Go on now, and don’t look back, okay?”

Atsumu nodded, hesitant, an eroding pain in the pit of his stomach at the finality in Ki’s words, the gentle field in his eyes. 

The hand that lingered on his is smooth, like ripples. 

As Atsumu turned and took his first step down towards the ink-colored tunnel at the bottom of the hill, a shaky breath escaped him when Ki’s form began to disappear in roves in his mind. He desperately held on to a fading face, the dissipating portrait of a boy-god whom he loved and will continue to love, for as long as he could remember. Will remember. 

As far into the future as time allows.

〰️〰️〰️

Miya Atsumu stands tall at 26 years old. 

But right now, legs crossed over grass at the edge of a small lapping river near his grandparents’ home, he feels like he’s 16 all over again. The sun splatters across lazy waves, weed-filled and oxidized, a few feet away from the soles of Atsumu’s shoes. Tucked away in the rural landscapes of Shiga, the wind tastes oddly familiar on his tongue. 

Miya Atsumu juggles the weight of memories lost and memories stark in the back of his head. He remembers standing 3 feet 9 inches at the age of 7 and tumbling headfirst into a mighty rapid, muddy liquid filling his mouth. He remembers frantic shouting, Osamu’s voice fading into the waves rushing through his ears—until suddenly, something strange happened. The water slowed down into swirls; currents realigned and pushed against the back of his knees. Atsumu remembers opening his eyes to wet dirt and tall grass brushing his face; and he had wondered, after all this time, how he had managed to end up safely on the shore with only his left sneaker lost in the waters. 

Osamu had told him it was out of sheer luck, but Atsumu had always believed it was the river who had saved him.

Today, Kita River is nothing more than a dwindling infant stream. But that’s okay.

Because Atsumu knows, with boundless faith, that the river from his childhood will stay with him forever. That for the rest of his life, the river will always be with him. A part of him. 

Atsumu smiles a little at the thought. The gaping holes in his chest begin to settle. The sun fades out above.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: theres actually a river called kita river in shiga prefecture, about a two hour drive from hyogo (this info alone gave me inspiration to write this oneshot eheh) thank you for reading!


End file.
